"No."

"Oh, yes. I didn't know what was happening, what they were doing, but I could tell it hurt her, and I didn't say anything. After they left, she cried for the rest of the day. I told my father about it. He kissed me and asked if they had touched me, and when I said no, he cried. Then he said there was nothing to be done about it. He said that we were at war."

"The Causy rebellion."

"Yes."

"But Causy's men were brutes."

"The men at our house weren't Causy's men; they were knights and men-at-arms sent from Eslen. I found that out later, of course, and about all the other things those men did when they were living on our land. Not long after that I was taken off to the coven."

"William hadn't been king long when that happened," Muriele said.

"Doesn't matter who the king is. Armies have to eat. The men in them are off to fight and probably die, and it makes them-different."

"You can't be excusing them."

"No. I hope the men who did that to Sally died in agony. I'm making no excuse; I'm just stating it as a fact."

"All men aren't like that."

"Of course not. But one in a hundred is plenty, and there's more than that," Alis replied.

That afternoon, they saw ahead of them towering cloud castles flickering with incandescence. There was no sound, and Muriele felt breathless at the beauty of it. From time to time crooked blue-white lines leaped between the clouds or to the earth, but most of the fire seemed to be in the hearts of the thunderheads. Alis seemed as rapt as she.

So much beauty in the world when one had time to notice it. Why was that almost always on a journey of some sort?

Unperturbed by the fire in the north, the sun went his way toward the wood in the west, but before he reached it, a different sort of spectacle appeared before them. It looked at first like a cloud of dust, but soon enough Muriele could make out the banners and the red glint of evening sun on armor.

She remembered the little girls from that morning and felt spiders on her back.

"How many would you guess, Sir Neil?" she asked the knight as the army drew nearer. They had a good vantage from the top of a hill overlooking a long, shallow valley. Aradal had unfurled his banner, and she could make out an advance party on horse riding to meet them.

Neil pointed to marching men, who walked four abreast in a column that seemed to stretch for a league.

"You see the banners?" he asked.

She did. They were hard to miss, as each of them was several kingsyards square. The nearest depicted a large horned fish. The other two were too far away to quite make out their figuring.

"For each of those banners there are a thousand men, or near. That's an entire harji."

"Harji?"

"The Hansan army isn't organized like ours," Neil explained. "In Crotheny, lords raise their knights, and knights bring retainers, footmen, levy peasants if need be. Men are organized by their natural leaders."

"But not so in Hansa?"

"The horse is arranged that way, but not the marching army. That's divided into units: A hundred men are a wairdu. Ten wairdu make a hansa. Three or four hansa make up a harji, much like a Church legif."

"Sounds organized," Alis remarked.

"It is," Neil replied.

"But if a hansa is a thousand men, why is the country named so?"

"I never wondered about that," Neil answered. "Perhaps Lord Aradal can tell you."

Muriele hailed him, and the Hansan lord trotted his horse over.

"Your Majesty?"

"We were wondering why your country is named after a thousand men."

He looked briefly puzzled, then smiled. "I see. It's got to do with our history. The hansa is more than a thousand men; it is a sacred thing, a brotherhood, a saint-blessed guild. There was a time before the wairdu or the harji, but we always had the hansa. It's the foundation of our kingdom, and it's said that when we first conquered this land, we did it with a single hansa."

"It will take more than that to conquer Crotheny," Muriele informed him.

"Aye. But we have more than that, as you see."

The outriders were nearly on them now. The leader was a knight in the livery of the Reiksbaurg, a writhing waurm and a sword. His helm was plumed with horsehair. He had about twenty men with him.

When he drew up, he lifted off his helmet, revealing a young man with high cheekbones, pale golden hair, and eyes as green as moss.

Aradal was already off his horse and going down on his knee.

"Your Highness," he said.

"Rise, please, Aradal, and introduce me," the newcomer said.

Aradal straightened. "Queen Mother Muriele Dare of Crotheny, I am pleased to present to you His Royal Majesty Prince Berimund Fram Reiksbaurg."

"My suitor," Muriele said.

"A most unsuccessful suitor," the young man replied. "It is most unflattering to be rebuffed not once but several times, and now that I look upon you in person, I am doubly, no, triply dismayed. Your beauty may be legendary, but even legend does you no justice."

Muriele tried to look flattered and abashed, but the boy was half her age and the speech sounded practiced rather than sincere.

"With that golden tongue you should have pressed your suit in person rather than through envoys," she replied. "Although to be honest, even Saint Adhen could not have persuaded me out of my mourning."

Berimund smiled briefly. "I hope to marry a woman as steadfast as you, lady. I should like to be mourned."

The prince reddened a little, and a shy look crept across his face. He suddenly looked very young.

"Let's hope no one mourns you for a long time," Muriele said.

He nodded.

"Blood and duty command me to tell you something else, Berimund. This host you lead-I hope it is not bound for my country."

"It is bound for our border," Berimund said, "but I am not leading it. I have been sent here, lady, to escort you to Kaithbaurg."

"That's sweet, but I already have an able escort," Muriele told him.

"The king, my father, was quite adamant about it. Aradal is needed elsewhere."

"Your Majesty-" Aradal began, but the prince interrupted him, his voice suddenly harsher.

"Aradal, if I wish you to speak, I will ask you to. My man Ilvhar will give you instructions. I will escort the queen from here."

He turned back to her. "Your men will be guided back to the border unharmed, I promise you."

"My men? They will stay with me."

He shook his head. "You may keep your maid and a single bodyguard, but the rest of your escort must return home."

"This is outrageous," Muriele said. "I was assured that the old covenant would be maintained."

"Aradal had no right to make such assurances," the prince said. "Your country has been declared a heretic nation by the holy Church. The old covenants no longer apply."

"Do you really believe that?"

For an instant the uncomfortable boy showed again in his eyes, but then his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I won't argue about this, lady." He nodded at Neil. "And I don't expect an argument from your man, either."

"You're taking me prisoner and you don't expect an argument?"

"You wanted to talk to my father, didn't you?"

"Yes. To try to talk him out of this war."

"Well, the war is begun, and your daughter began it."

"What are you talking about?"

"She slaughtered five hundred holy warriors of the Church, sent by the Fratrex Prismo to keep the peace. The Church is our staunch ally. If it is attacked, so are we. Furthermore, we have news that she is preparing to assault our peacemakers in Copenwis. So we find ourselves in a state of war. You, Your Majesty, represent an invading force, and I would be fully justified in removing all of your men-in-arms from the fray. Instead, I'm doing the honorable thing and allowing them to return to Crotheny."